Page 6 of Forced By the Bratva

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he started in an overly smooth tone, grinning from ear to ear. The way he was smiling made me think of the Joker in Batman. Walking a little closer, I listened intently as I felt a bad feeling rush through me.

“Tonight, for the first time, we will have a unique fight!” Jones blabbered. The crowd rose from their seats and cheered loudly.

“Sign-up will be in about ten minutes,” he added, checking his watch. Glancing down to the woman in the chair, he continued. “The prize for this special event will be this lovely lady sitting at my side. The winner gets to take her home!”

The air filled with cries of excitement as men stormed to the entrance desk. Looking back at the woman, I noticed shock flooding her face. But it was quickly replaced by a deep sadness as she glanced at the crowd, and our eyes met. It was only a brief moment, but it stirred within me a deep need I hadn’t felt in a long time.

What kind of business was this, I thought. How could anyone use such a divine being as a prize in an underground fight? Did he not know what kind of men these were?

“Please, people, please listen,” Jones said again, grinning at the sudden chaos. “The winner will be the last man standing! Do you hear me, the last man standing!” He chuckled, a horrid sound coming from deep within him.

My mind went blank. What did he imply? Would this be a fight to the death? A sudden urge to protect flooded through my veins. Looking at the men signing up, I knew I had to have her; she needed saving. I walked to the desk and signed up for the fight without any further consideration.

Once my name was added, I scanned the other men standing in line. There were about twenty contestants. I didn’t recognize any of them, which was a good thing. Most appeared to be in their twenties. They were noticeably driven by hormones and making bad choices. I felt sure they didn’t truly understand the concept.

A young black-haired woman came over and told me to please fall into the line at the ring. I would be up closer to the end. I stood watching the contestants falling out one by one. Most were being dragged off, covered in blood. I was sure some of them were no longer breathing, either.

Most of the matches went by quickly. As I expected, most of the fighters were amateurs. There were two men, as far as I could see, beating the rest to a pulp. I felt my natural fighting instincts increasing as each match passed. The adrenaline rush caused by watching was the one thing I tried to stay clear of.

I knew stepping into that ring could bring back my desires. Yet, I felt compelled. I couldn’t let any of these monsters get their filthy hands on such a princess. Plus, she could be a treasure trove of information on Jones.

Chapter 3 - Alyssa

The place was packed, which wasn’t strange. People tended to be attracted to the blood and gore. After the first two or three rounds, Jones came waddling over. He stood beside me as the announcer joined us.

She was a pretty little thing, as Jones called her. The woman had sleek, long, wavy black hair. She had piercing green eyes and a fairly light skin tone. All these features made her unique, and she always attracted the attention of most men. The spotlight came on and shone down on us. She spoke up in her high-pitched voice, calling for the crowd’s attention.

I kept my head down, not feeling comfortable with the attention focused in our direction. Jones blasted over the mic, announcing I would be the prize for the evening's fight. My body was numb as shock vibrated through me.

How could he do this? He had no right. I wasn’t his property, even though he thought so. Looking at the crowd, I noticed the men storming to sign up. My heart sank to my feet. I was sure it couldn’t get any worse. But maybe I could escape at night, seeing that Jones wouldn’t be around to watch me like a hawk.

But what would happen to me before I could get away? If one of the regulars got their hands on me… I sighed deeply, just thinking of it. My emotions were raging a war within me.

Glancing up at Jones, I noticed his grin. His face filled with pride. He surely felt he had accomplished something great. Maybe things could work out for me after all. Feeling my chest tightening at the thought of what the winner would expect, I took a deep breath.

It would be worth it if I got away, I assured myself. The men were lined up, and the first fight was well on its way. Most of the first rounds went quite quickly. The men who had signed up were mostly amateurs. Out of the first ten rounds, two men appeared to stand out from the rest.

The one was a regular known only as the ‘Fist.’ I had never seen him without the mask he wore. He was reasonably tall and decently built. But he wasn’t an attractive man if you asked me. The other had only been here a couple of times. He was much shorter than most fighters. His build seemed overly muscular. This wasn’t something I looked for in a man.

After taking out their competition, they fought next. It was a longer fight as they appeared to be well met. With each sweep of their fists, blood splattered left and right. After about six rounds, the taller one, Fist, knocked out the shorter one.

Many of the people standing around were solidly wasted. Some hung on each other while others appeared to be lounging in their seats. It has always fascinated me how people change when drinking.

I wasn’t really into watching, but I was intrigued by the announcement of a new fighter. I saw the stranger in the line as it thinned out. There were only a couple of fighters left. The new guy stood out like a sore toe.

Over the last five years, we have not seen a newcomer. This was exciting, and the crowd cheered more than usual. I could see this man didn’t come here to fight. He wasn’t dressed like the others. Stepping into the ring, he removed his shirt, exposing his sleek, muscular upper body.

His skin shone golden in the bright lights of the ring and his longish dark hair was tied at the back. He was well-proportioned, not like most other men. His upper body displayed strength, and the way he moved spoke to me. He was a warrior, a resilient man filled with honor.

Down his one arm was a tattoo of a snake. The head of the snake rested on his hand, and between the snake's curves were skulls and bones. It was quite captivating and made him look slightly savage.

He was up against Fist. Julie spoke over the microphone as he stepped in. She announced him as the ‘Skull Crusher’. The name sounded familiar, as if I had heard it before.

“I knew it,” Jones said to another man. He looked like one of the investors, but I wasn’t sure. They were standing a couple of feet away. “I thought he looked familiar. That guy, he is a fighter you want on your books.” He added, grinning.

Suddenly, I remembered where I had heard the name. It was years back. Jones had been looking for this fighter. Jones was an evil man and he had something up his sleeve. I couldn’t be sure, but something was wrong.

Not only did he put me up as the prize, but he got this man to fight. This fighter had not been heard of for years, and now suddenly he was here.

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